


my demons are begging

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: Original Works [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, POV Third Person, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this as a flash fiction for my intro to fiction class last fall semester. I just really like it, still, thought I'd post it. Not fandom related whatsoever.</p>
    </blockquote>





	my demons are begging

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a flash fiction for my intro to fiction class last fall semester. I just really like it, still, thought I'd post it. Not fandom related whatsoever.

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She gripped the bottle a bit tighter; the glass would just be another mess, another mess to clean up. A perfect fucking representation of her fucking life.

She set the bottle down. Traced the fingers of her right hand along the veins in her left arm. Rolled her shoulders. Blinked at the screen of her computer, sitting in front of her, the brightness a stark contrast to the dark of the rest of the room.

She was afraid. She was afraid of life. Of living. Her middle finger traced circles into the palm of her left hand. She closed her eyes, listened to the mix of music coming from her laptop.

She was afraid of fucking up. She was afraid of being forty, of being a failure, of being stuck in a fucking dead-end job she hated because she hadn’t been good enough to follow her dreams. Because her dreams had sucked, because _what if her dreams did suck._

She wanted to change people’s lives. Her fingernails dug into the soft underbelly of her wrist, cut slightly into the skin there. Her shoulders were tense. She had a headache. She picked up the whiskey again, sucked some more from the bottle. Sighed. She could feel her heartbeat, too loud in her head, overpowering the soft lyrics coming from the speakers of her computer.

She was _scared_ , of not being able to change any-fucking-thing about this world. About leaving the world worse off than she’d come into it. She was scared of not meaning anything. Of not effecting any change, of being a burden, to the world, to her parents, to her friends. To life itself. _Her life_ wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth living at all.

She let her fingers trace her face, press into her eyes, rubbing them, hard, clenching her jaw. Two more semesters, and she was done with college. Time to move on. Face the “real world”, because what the fuck was even the real world anyway? And she was scared, because all she’d wanted out of life was to move on, always move on, undergrad, and then her Masters, and then a Ph.D. And now she was scared that she wouldn’t even make it there.

What if she didn’t get in as a Masters candidate? What if she couldn’t find the motivation to even finish undergrad? What if she got in and then failed? And what if she succumbed to her mind? What if she grabbed that bottle in the back of her medicine cabinet with the variety of pills and. What if what if what if. All the fucking what-ifs.

She was so tired. So exhausted. Of life, and living, and she was so scared that she couldn’t make it. She was so scared that she would fail.

She rubbed her eyes raw, pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to stop from tearing up. It wasn’t like she could cry, anyway. She’d gotten all cried out before college had even started. Her body was sick of crying, of self-pity, of self-hatred, and her mind and her body just wanted out.

She was so scared of failure, of failing at life, of life in itself, and of living. She didn’t want to end up a failure, so what was the point of even going on?

She pressed the heel of her hand to her temple, closed her eyes, and let her heartbeat, always too loud, take her away.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Hold Me Down" by Halsey


End file.
